


Danger Illustrated

by Ludovico_is_my_homeboy



Series: The Firestarter Series [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Codependency, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Experiment!Steve, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Possessive Billy Hargrove, Protective Billy Hargrove, Smut, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, experiment!billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-24 06:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18162635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovico_is_my_homeboy/pseuds/Ludovico_is_my_homeboy
Summary: "Can the little test tube monsters feel love, Williams?"Six is sent on a mission... the best part is coming home to Seven.Experiment!AU





	Danger Illustrated

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This story takes place before the events of 'Firestarter'

Six sits on the end of a bed in a motel room and pretends he is Billy Hargrove of California.

He finds that it is good to do this, to pretend. It makes everything easier, and it is not, in and of itself, a difficult thing to do. It keeps him occupied in the long, tedious stretches of time on missions when he needs to sit quietly and wait.

When he was younger he used to fidget terribly at times like this, but that habit has long since been trained out of him. The fire has been dampened, repressed, through long and painful instruction.

He sits still and silent, though his insides churn with violence.

The motel room would likely be considered small and cramped by normal standards, but for Six it seems like a palace. His own room for sleeping back at the Lab is quite small and devoid of personality. Here, though, there is so much to look at… the patterns on the carpet, the phone and lamp and writing paper on the nightstand, the stains on the walls.

The window curtains in the room are pulled tightly closed. If they weren't, most of Six’s attention would likely be on the view outside.

He wishes, for a moment, that he could take the writing paper on the nightstand back with him for Seven. Seven loves to draw but rarely gets the chance and materials to do so, and this paper has the words ‘STARCOURT MOTEL THANK YOU FOR STAYING WITH US’ in fancy block letters at the top.

Seven would like that.

Seven would save the paper, cherish it, rub his fingers against the lettering, create sweet and complex illustrations of things he dreamed up. He’d use a graphite pencil to scratch shapes on the creamy surface, to bring those imaginings to life.

Six isn't that good at imagining things, but Seven is... Seven dreams all sorts of things, things he's never seen in real life before. Seven dreams and Six has a photographic memory. When Six returns to the Lab and to Seven, he will use his finger to trace the patterns on the carpet and the layout of the motel on the wall of their room.

A phantom picture which vanishes the moment he creates it.

He'll do that while Seven watches eagerly, and Seven will be able to see it, really picture it in his head, and that will be as close as Seven gets to the Outside and as close as Six gets to drawing. Six wouldn't attempt to use paper and pencil even if it was readily available. Anything he could draw would look crude and inadequate compared to what Seven can do.

If Six bought paper back, Seven would use up every precious bit of space on the page for his creations, and then together they would tape the finished drawing up on the wall of their shared room. 

Six can’t take the paper, though. He’s not allowed to bring things back with him.

When he returns to the Lab he’ll be stripped of his civilian outfit and hosed down with lukewarm water and given his usual drab clothes that don’t have pockets in them. Any outside materials found on his person will be confiscated.

He won’t be able to wear the things he likes. He won’t be able to keep paper for Seven tucked away safe inside a shirt or pants pocket.

The thought makes Six feel a deep and profound pang of unhappiness.

He pushes these dangerous ideas away and pretends to be Billy Hargrove of California, which is a state on the west coast of the country. It is pretty far away from where they are now. Miles and miles and miles. If any civilians notice that his mannerisms are a little strange, they’ll think it is because he’s from there.

Six decides that, while being in the motel room is an exciting change for him, it is nothing new or interesting for Billy Hargrove. Billy Hargrove probably spends loads of time in rooms like these, and in better rooms, bigger rooms.

Billy Hargrove thinks the room is dingy and small.

California is a far away place. Brenner said it was sunny and close to the ocean. Six wishes he was there now.

If he could get the tracker off his ankle and the cattle prod and guns away from his handlers, he could go. He could get in a car and figure out how to drive it and get someone to tell him how to get to California… or better yet, he could get a map. Yeah, a map. A map, and sunglasses, and food and water. They have those at gas stations. He could get them there.

He could go. Sunny and close to the ocean. The ocean. The sun.

Except of course, he can’t go. Whether or not he could accomplish all those proposed tasks is a moot point. The thing he wants even more than California is back at the Lab, and if he ran now he’d have to leave Seven behind, and even if he could get them both away from the Lab they’d be found. Brenner and his Clean-Up Crew would find them.

Six knows what the price of such a failure would be.

Over the years the smell of cigarettes and sex and cleaning fluid has become deeply embedded in the carpets, in the drapes, in the very plaster of the motel room’s walls, and has grown stale and oppressive and inescapable.

Billy Hargrove doesn’t like it. Neither does Six.

There are two men in the room with him. Williams is a familiar face. He’s been the primary handler on missions before. The other man’s name is McCormick. He is new to the job.

This is Six’s first outing with him.

Williams is fiddling with the radio, calm yet focused, one eye on a portable video screen in front of him. He is watching, waiting for the Target, the Task. Billy's Task.

McCormick is sitting a few feet away, reading a magazine. The magazine says ‘JUGS’ on the front in white and black lettering, and there is a picture of a woman just underneath that word. Occasionally, though with increasing frequency, McCormick’s eyes dart up from the magazine and study Six.

Six ignores him and watches the wallpaper.

Six knows that he’s an object worthy of study, especially for McCormick. McCormick was likely at least partially briefed on his background and origins yet is still not accustomed to face-to-face interactions with Six and the other Numbers.

He has a feeling that McCormick’s interest in him is not purely based on a wholesome curiosity. If Seven were here, he’d know exactly how to read that twist to the lip and slant of the eye. He'd know exactly what was coming. Six just has a vague, low-level anxiety in his lower gut.

McCormick stands and stretches, lets the unflattering softness around his middle show, and then saunters over to Six. Six doesn’t flinch. He only side-eyes the man, tilting his head with the non-threatening submissiveness Numbers are supposed to offer Techs.

“Here, pal. Have a peek.”

McCormick hands Six the magazine and Six takes it, cradles it. Paper is valuable, the written word is valuable, pictures are valuable. They are rare and golden and precious if you’re someone like Six, and Six treats this trash-rag as carefully as he would treat a priceless tome.

Six… Billy… when he is Outside he needs to remember to think of himself as Billy… looks at the glossy pages of the magazine.

A woman, long and slim, with very large breasts, looks up at him from the page. She is spread wide and Six (Billy) can see every fold of her private parts, every possible view of the triangle between her legs.

“That’s a pussy,” McCormick says matter-of-factly, and Six chances a glance up at him. He is standing a little bit too close, looming over the boy, his eyes bright and his smile smug. “That thing right there. You’ve never seen one, I guess.”

“I received basic sexual education,” Six responds. He keeps his voice carefully neutral. If the Techs think he is getting sarcastic they will punish him, and the downside to being away from the Lab is that there is no Brenner out here to tell them to stop before they get too creative or damage him too badly.

“Yeah," McCormick continues, smirk shimmering with dark humor. “Yeah, but I mean… in person.”

“No.”

“Probably never will. Shit, that’s not right. We need to get you laid. Make a goddamn man out of you.”

“Mac…” Williams murmurs a low warning and McCormick snorts.

“Whatever, man.” The words are dismissive but the glint in the Tech’s eyes tells Six that he is not yet done with him.

Six looks down at the page again and considers it.

He wonders if this is something Billy Hargrove would like.

Pussy. Getting laid. Being a goddamn man.

It _seems_ like something Billy would like.

Six is not completely innocent. He knows what this is (in an abstract way if nothing else), but he also remembers that the last time one of the Techs tried to talk to him about this sort of thing without permission… tried to talk to him, and then tried to do more… Brenner’s Clean-Up Crew was forced to intervene.

Brenner doesn’t want any deviations from his educational regimen, and no sexual outlets for Numbers besides those he has already approved. The outcome of such a blatant rebellion was inevitable. No one crosses Brenner and lives.

Six knows that they might change someday… Brenner’s plans. When Scott (the Tech’s name was Scott, and he’d pushed his fingers into Six’s mouth and then pawed at his genitals, and then he’d put Six on his knees, and then he'd disappeared after Brenner found out) had been on his one and only mission alone with Six he’d talked about procreation.

About Six’s future and the future of all the Numbers.

More babies. He’d said Brenner would want more babies soon, more to work with. Special babies. He’d gotten the babies from outside sources before, but that strategy had brought unpleasant complications and mixed results. And now that he has the Numbers…

Six knows you can’t get babies from homosexual sex.  

With this in mind, Six studies the glossy paper woman. Something about the image pleases him in a vague sort of way, but he has no real desire to pursue it further.

In fact, he has no desire to continue any part of this conversation or the related thought experiment. His hands grip the magazine because he was given the magazine and told to look at it – and if nothing else he is supposed to do as he’s told – but his thoughts are drifting.

He wishes they could get on with the mission. They are waiting for the target to show up and it’s taking forever. Six likes missions generally, but right now he wants to get it over with. He wants to go back to the Lab, back to…

“Of course, this little freak of nature,” McCormick continues just a touch too loudly, “probably doesn’t like this kind of thing. He’s got that little bitch back at HQ… whats-its-name…?”

“Seven,” Williams supplies, sounding bored.

“Yeah, Seven. Useless Seven. No powers to speak of, but he’s got an ass that keeps little faggots on their toes, huh?”

Six feels the world go blurry and lopsided before it manages to right itself again with jarring speed. The sensation comes and goes with such a disorienting force it makes him dizzy.

“You fuck him yet?” McCormick asks Six.

“Mac,” Williams interrupts, “I’m serious. Brenner…”

“Relax, man, I’m just asking! We all know what the kid is in there for. Why big bad Doc Brenner keeps a dud experiment around… all to keep this little psycho in line. I’m just wondering if the freak here likes it rough or what? Likes to hold him down, jam his hand up that little twink’s ass. Put his cock in there, really pound away, stuff him full. That’s what they like, these fairies…” McCormick leans back, face a mask of distaste. “Give me a nice wet pussy any day.”

Six doesn’t say anything. He closes the magazine and places it next to him on the bed, gently, as if the women on the pages are real and not made of stiff, shiny paper.

Something flickers in his eyes and his nose twitches slightly. The movement goes unremarked by the two men.

“Or maybe he likes it gentle. Maybe he brings the little shit flowers and they kiss on the mouth. Maybe they’re in love. Can the little test tube monsters feel love, Williams?”

“Christ, McCormick,” Williams stands with a huff and walks towards the door. “You never shut up. I’m going to check the back.”

“Yeah.”

Williams leaves the room and then Six is alone with McCormick.

Maybe Williams was the reason McCormick was talking so much, because the moment he goes the older man falls silent. Six has noticed that the Techs talk particularly loudly to each other when they are in the same room as Numbers. He’d mentioned it to Seven once and the other boy had said that the Techs were scared of them. He’d said that people sometimes get loud and cruel when they want to pretend they are not scared.

That doesn't make much sense to Six. He wears the metal band on his ankle, and the Techs have the cattle prods and the guns. 

Then again...

Six rubs the side of his nose casually. McCormick stares at Six and lets the moment stretch.

McCormick is barking up the wrong tree, of course, although he doesn’t know it, couldn’t know it. Six and the other Numbers have made an art form of silence. If he is trying to upset Billy or make him uncomfortable, he won't do it by staring and not talking.

He shifts, still looming, still  _there_ , and Six draws in a deep, quick breath, quiet and unobtrusive as ever.

He is, in the surface at least, everything he was trained to be.

“You’re not really my type, freak,” McCormick murmurs thoughtfully, finally breaking the silence. “Your little bitch, though… he could be. He’s got that long hair like a girl’s. That kind of face. Those lips, too… wouldn’t be so bad if you could just fuck his mouth.”

The man leans over and Billy can smell his breath… mouthwash and cigarettes.

“Yeah, you’re not really my type, but I could take one for the team. Teach you a few things about pleasing a man. Would you like that, monster? Then you could go back to your cage and show that little cunt what…”

The door to the motel room swings open suddenly, and Williams is there, panting and sweaty. Williams is usually a consummate professional but right now he seems rather disconcerted.

“Come on, Mac, we gotta go. Grab him.”

“What? Is the target here?”

“No, ahh… the car is on fire.”

Six dabs his nose discreetly before any blood can drip onto his civilian clothes.

 

 

 

Seven lays on the bed. He is naked. His fingers twitch anxiously towards the blanket pooled around his knees. The temperature in the Lab is rigorously controlled, and there always seems to be just a touch of a chill in the rooms where the Numbers are kept. Seven would like to pull the blanket up, but it would only get in the way.

Six dips his head down and wraps his lips around Seven’s cock. He takes just the head in, swirling his tongue around the foreskin while Seven hisses with pleasure.

Encouraged by the sound, Six works the shaft further, wetting it with practiced movements and taking Seven deeper and deeper down his throat. He puts his hands on the other boy’s hips to slow and control the unconscious thrusting movements Seven is making. Six makes patterns on the silky-hard skin in his mouth with his tongue - he repeats the patterns found on the carpets in motel rooms - and revels in the sounds of Seven falling apart.

Seven tilts his head back, his hands going right to Six’s blonde curls. He runs his fingers though the silky hair, scratching the scalp and tugging a little at the loose strands. Six likes that, moans around Seven’s cock, and Seven smiles.

With a slurping noise Six pulls off suddenly, and Seven huffs in frustration. They are together now and they have the whole night, but it still seems rather naughty of Six to tease him this way. If Seven had the vocabulary for it he might call Six a 'little shit'.

Six nuzzles his cock and gazes up at him, eyes fiery with a look that is very familiar to Seven. Seven's protests die in his mouth as his throat goes dry and his cheeks heat up. He loves that look.

Ever responsive, Seven grins, stretches his arms above his head, and preens, happy to show off for such an appreciative audience. He bites his lower lip, making it shiny and red, while his swollen cock bounces against his stomach, aroused and neglected. He whines, needy and wanton and eager for more pleasure.

The fire in Six’s eyes grows brighter.

“Pretty,” he murmurs.

“Please, Six…," the other boy whimpers, playing it up just a little. He knows Six would never deny him but... "Please? I want it…”

“Shhh,” Six hushes him, runs a hand over the boy’s genitals as if assuring him that he hasn’t forgotten they're there. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“I want…” Six stops, tilts his head and considers Seven, who considers him right back.

They do this a lot. There is an endless fascination to be found in looking at each other.

“I want to try something,” he finishes after a moment. He looks eager yet shy about it, and Seven is intrigued in spite of himself.

“What is it?”

“It’s something one of the Techs told me about.”

Seven frowns. “Which one?”

There is a small hesitation, so slight as to almost not be noticeable. If it was anyone but Seven looking it would have gone completely unremarked.

“Williams.”

Seven’s frown deepens and his gaze darts away. The Numbers don’t like any of the Techs (they understand that everyone in the building has a different function, but everyone who isn’t Brenner or a member of the Clean-Up Crew falls under the heading of ‘Techs’), but some are definitely worse than others.

Williams has been around for a while, longer than a lot of the others, and has grown distinctly proprietorial of late.

It unsettles Seven. He sees Williams watching them both with a strange, unreadable expression on his face, and it is particularly nerve-wracking for Seven because he is usually very good at reading people.

Six, of course, never seems to notice, and if anything bad ever happened with Williams in the past he has not told Seven about it. Nothing like what happened with Scott.

Of course, Six doesn’t tell Seven everything anyways. There are plenty of things Six keeps hidden.

For example, he didn’t tell Seven that Williams has been partnered with the new Tech, McCormick, though Seven found out in his own way. McCormick, who smells like cigarettes and who pushes his hand into Seven’s behind every time he walks him to one of the Testing Rooms. 

Everyone thinks Seven is stupid. Seven knows this. Brenner thinks it, the Techs think it… even Six seems to think it, sometimes.

Seven does nothing to change their opinion of him. This is a deliberate choice on his part. He has no interest in passing Brenner’s tests, no interest in proving himself to them. He learned the hard way very early on that playing by their rules gets you nothing, nothing that Seven wants.

He will comply… but that doesn’t mean he needs to give them anything more.

Let them think his escape attempts are flukes. Let them think he’s a mindless toy for Six. Let them think he has no skills of his own.

He can read them like words on a page, can see every nasty, small, scared thing inside of them.

He sees he same things in Williams and McCormick that he sees in everyone else here, but there are also some grey areas in Williams and it unnerves Seven to know that there are limits to his powers.

_What powers? You have no powers._

_No power._

Six is waiting for him, blue eyes sparkling with patience and warmth in the dim light. 

_No power anywhere except here._

Seven finally sighs and nods. Just as Six will deny him nothing, Seven can almost never find any strength to go against Six's wants and wishes.

There is only the one topic of discussion that always becomes a fight, and they are not talking about it tonight.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, reluctantly curious.

Six grins and holds up his hands.

“I’m going to touch your ass and put my fingers in your hole.”

Seven blinks. He has never heard of such a thing before. Sexual education for Numbers was rudimentary at best and overwhelming focused on the heterosexual. The only reason he knows what an 'ass' is is because Billy heard the slang term on a mission and told him about it.

Heterosexual is not what Six and Seven do. What they do, Brenner had informed them, is homosexual… and it is allowed but not encouraged. Tolerated. For now.

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you want to put your fingers there?”

Stymied for a moment, Six's grin stutters and then widens. He shrugs.

“Science experiment?”

It’s a terrible joke… really, really terrible. It jolts a bright, startled laugh out of Seven. He brings his hands up to his face and giggles and smiles at the other boy, delighted. Six looks up at him with something close to awe.

“Okay,” Seven chuckles finally. "Okay."

Once he gets the go-ahead, Six sets about maneuvering the other boy’s hips up so he can reach his goal with more ease. He considers this placement carefully, and then decides that it would be better for them both if Seven was on his stomach. He makes a soft huffing noise, a thinking noise, and rolls Seven over. Seven is patient with Six’s experimentation but cannot resist rolling his eyes when he thinks the other boy can’t see.

Finally, Seven is comfortably arranged and Six has the access he wants. He has never considered this part of Seven’s body overmuch - Seven's mouth and smile and eyes and nipples and cock are on the  _front_ bit, not the  _back_ bit - but the hints he'd gotten from the Techs suggest that there are new sources of pleasure and fun to be found here, with careful and considered exploration.

Of course he wants to find those spots with Seven.

His Seven. Pretty and sweet and perfect.

(...And restless, and prone to anxiety, and weighed down by the sense that they are in terrible danger, that there is something wrong in their lives that can only be fixed by doing the impossible… by leaving.

By _Escape_.

If Six can please Seven, can pleasure his body and distract his mind, maybe these thoughts won’t weight on him so heavily. If he is more or less content, maybe he won’t want to run away, and if he doesn't run away then he'll be safe and unhurt and cared for. Six knows he can give Seven everything he needs if Seven would only let him...)

He strokes Seven’s ass, gentle and careful, fondling the mounds of flesh. Seven relaxes under his hands, enjoying the tender touch. If they did nothing but this, nothing but caress and hold each other with tenderness and affection, it would still be a kind of victory in a place like this.

Out there in the Lab, in the cold white rooms, the touches are cruel and violent when they come at all.

Six waits until Seven is melting slightly underneath him before turning his attention to the dark crack of his ass. He runs a thumb down the line and then carefully spreads Seven open, exposing him to Six's tender mercies.

Seven’s hole, dark pink against pale skin, winks up at Six, who examines it curiously. It seems very small. He wonders how on earth he is supposed to put an entire hand inside. Perhaps McCormick got that part wrong.

Cautiously, he dips a finger between the smooth, pale mounds and rubs at the hole. The tight ring of muscle tenses under his touch, and then flutters and relaxes slightly. Seven hums a little and Six watches him with the methodical, dedicated focus he reserves specifically for completing Brenner’s missions and for pleasing Seven.

“How does it feel?” he asks.

“Sh… strange.”

Six keeps rubbing gently, and eventually the puckered hole softens completely. It looks rather inviting now that he considers it, a tempting opening he's never seen properly before. He likes it. He wonders if he _could_ put more inside... on a whim, he pushes against the hole with his finger.

He slides in with relative ease, feels the skin drag against his finger. Seven is hot and tight inside, clenching down on the digit, and Six's imagination sparks a little bit at that knowledge.

Seven grunts, a sound of slight discomfort. 

"Feels strange," he murmurs, wiggling a bit. "What's it supposed to do?"

That, Six isn't completely sure about. But he does like this, and he feels the urge to push in and out of the hole a bit, get a rhythm going like when he and Seven stroke or suck each other. He wants to use this hole like Brenner - in his dry, dull way - and McCormick suggested one use the parts belonging to females.

_Give me a nice wet pussy any day._

Six considers McCormick’s passing comment for a moment, and then leans in and spits on the hole and his finger.

“What was that,” Seven shifts restlessly, his voice changing pitch. “Wet. Did you just…?”

“Shhh…” Six uses his finger to push the spit in and out of the hole and finds the glide much easier now. Seven must find it so, too, because he ceases fussing and lets himself slowly relax into the bed again.

This is good. Seven likes this, or at least doesn’t dislike it. And Six…

Six finds it strangely pleasing. The rhythm he uses with his finger is familiar, and the sensation…

Six has always loved touching Seven, holding and stroking his special place, giving him pleasure and receiving it in kind. He loves when his tongue slips in to taste Seven’s mouth, that subtle invasion, that momentary possession.

Seven is open now, bare and exposed, vulnerable to Six’s watchful eyes and thick fingers. Six looks up and can see the rapid flutter of Seven’s jugular vein, his heartbeat going erratic from lust and nerves.

Seven lets Six do as he likes. There is trust there. The sweet, bright-eyed boy with the pretty hair and the red lips and the body Six wants to get lost in trusts him and wants to please and be pleased by him. He draws for Six when he can and listens to him talk and is upset when Six comes back to their room covered in bruises. He likes it when Six smiles and moans and feels good.

Seven cares for him, and in caring for him has put himself in Six’s hands… Six, who is stronger and more powerful, who could break the other boy in a heartbeat, without even raising a finger. Six feels a surge of arousal at the thought of having so much control over someone like Seven and needs to grind his erection into the mattress to keep himself in check.

This right here - his finger in the other boy's tender, vulnerable hole - is like possession. Like a kind of ownership, something that has nothing to do with the men outside of the room with their guns and their papers. Like Six has a piece of Seven all to himself.

Six likes owning Seven.

It is touching but it is also more.

It is touching a secret, hidden, blessed place, and for Six, who wants to touch Seven, to be with him, to hold him, to know what he’s thinking, to share his own thoughts with him, to share everything with him… for Six, who _wants_ Seven so very much, it is a beautiful kind of miracle.

_Can the little test tube monsters feel love, Williams?_

_Maybe, Mac. Maybe._

Emboldened, Six quickly pushes a second and third finger in past that tight ring of muscle. He jams them in rougher than he means to in his eagerness, and he forgets to add any spit as he does so.

All at once Seven stiffens, clenches down hard and lets out a soft cry.

“Seven…?!”

“Mephhh… stop,” Seven gasps. “Stop! Six… please, it hurts…”

Six stops immediately, pulls his fingers out of Seven’s hole and looks up. He feels the heavy thud of his heart and a swooping, sick feeling in his stomach.

“S’not good?” he asks, clutching at Seven and studying him with a piercing gaze, desperate to weed out any unhappiness and stomp it to bits. Seven turns a little to look at Six and reassure him, his back arching under Six's soothing strokes.

“It… it felt okay at first. I guess. But then it hurt. I don’t like it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Six presses his hand softly against the abused hole, a comforting apology. “It hurts?”

“It… aches. And then it felt worse…sharp.”

“Okay…”

That’s enough, then. If Seven doesn’t like it then there’s no point. Panic and worry claw at Six’s insides and he casts about for the best way to erase this whole thing from Seven's mind.

_Bad Six, bad... fix it, fix it..._

He considers all his usual tricks before finally settling on something a little bolder than usual.

He moves his hand away, spreads Seven’s cheeks a little bit, and plants a gentle kiss on the tender hole.

He’d hurt Seven there, in that spot… it was so nice and he'd been so drunk on his own power and then he’d _hurt_ Seven. He’d hurt that soft skin, that gentle soul. He’d done it here, in their bed, in the place where no pain was ever supposed to come.

Outside in the Lab, yes… in the Testing Rooms and the Glass Room and the Practice Room… and Outside in the world, in the too bright, too fast world. Pain was a fact of life out here, but it wasn’t supposed to touch them here.

It wasn’t supposed to touch Seven.

Seven belongs to Six and that means he is Six’s responsibility. Six is supposed to keep him safe, to protect him and care for him and…

_Can the little test tube monsters feel love?_

He buries his face in Seven’s backside, letting out a low noise of self-reproach and pressing his lips to the abused flesh. Seven lets out an answering huff and - the true wonder, the true act of faith - relaxes against Six, presses back into his half-embrace. Six rewards this incredible forgiveness with more kisses and a gentle hand running up and down Seven's leg.

He likes doing this… kissing. He’s been doing it with Seven since before he knew there was a word for it.

Sometimes it’s playful and sweet and sometimes it’s needy and desperate. Sometimes it is the only thing to do when you are lonely or sad.

Sometimes he kisses Seven when Seven’s eyes go vacant and cloudy with inner pain. When those times come Seven doesn’t always respond, just relaxes a little more into each touch from Six.

Sometimes, like now, kisses are an apology, and a way to soothe the hurt.

He likes pressing his mouth to Seven’s skin, likes tasting it. He gives Seven’s hole another kiss, deeper this time, savoring the new taste, musky and filthy-sweet. On impulse, his tongue flicks out and laps at the wrinkled skin, tentative at first, and then with more enthusiasm. 

Seven lets out a tiny moan and Six pulls back quickly.

“Hurts?” he asks, alarmed.

“No,” Seven shakes his head and bites his lower lip. “Do it again?”

Six smiles a little and obliges. He's glad. The act appeals to something primal, almost animal inside of him.

He pushes his tongue in and the sensation elicits a little chirp from the other boy. Encouraged by this, he keeps at it, building up a rhythm, lapping and licking, rotating between gentle, barely there flicks of contact on the ring and pushing in deeply, as far as he can go inside.

As Seven moans more and begins rocking a little against the bed, Six brings up one dry thumb to massage the edges of the rim gently.

“S’Good,” Seven murmurs, hitching his hips up a little. His hand drifts down beneath him and he touches himself, strokes himself. Six drinks in the sight, feels the old, familiar electricity in the air.

“More… please. Six…”

The last word comes out sharp and breathy at the same time, like a gasp or a hiccup.

Six loves that sound.

He loves it when his name is said that way.

He loves when Seven says it.

He loves Seven.

He kisses him again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Me:*Watches ST3 trailer* ... *panicked honking noise*


End file.
